When Ethan’s car pulled into the driveway, I opened the door and continued with preparing the room for Steven’s return and removing some of the things that I had placed in there for storage.
Ethan’s brow furrowed with curiosity once he found me.
“Steven’s moving back in,” I informed him.
His lips pulled into a taut straight line as he stepped in the room, which, with the exception of a few things in the closet, was move-in ready.
“Foi ideia tua ou dele?” Your idea or his, he asked, slowly roaming around the room. Distracted.
I watched him cautiously as I always did when he spoke Portuguese, which he’d learned in order to speak to me. It was the language my adoptive mother had encouraged me to learn to maintain a connection with my birth mother. I’d spoken it with her as well. It had been familiar and comforting, and even though I’d learned it reluctantly as a child, I’d appreciated that we had something that connected us. Now I shared that connection with Ethan. Sometimes I wondered if he used it to disarm me and make things more palatable.
“Minha.” Mine. I waited for him to say something but he remained quiet, stolid. “He’s under the impression he needed your approval.” We didn’t speak for a long time.
I smiled. “Bobo, certo?” Silly, right?
My response was met with a long pause as he looked around the room before the rictus formed.
“I miss him,” I admitted, and I did. I enjoyed living with Steven.
“What do you miss: having all your food eaten up, finding his books tossed about in your living room, or following him with a vacuum to ensure that your house doesn’t look like a sty?” Derision was heavy in his voice, and the smirk firmly fixed on his face.
“There were other things. My life didn’t consist of just that.”
“Then what is it?” His interest seemed piqued more than it had ever been before. With the myriad of complex things there were about me, this was the one that held his attention the most?
But the relationship and comradery that I had with Steven wasn’t easily explained or understood. He’d lost his parents when he was a child, and then his sister. He’d been brought into the pack, he wasn’t of the pack. He was one of the few people that I interacted with who had found that fragile balance between being a were-animal and part of the pack. He was dedicated to the pack, but there was still a small part of him that seemed like he was on the outside looking in, the way I often felt.
He was still part of the everyday, non-supernatural world. His adaptability and the nuances of his nature were the very things that kept me grounded. He was more than just acute senses and a person who shifted into a coyote when necessary. When he was in human form, he was as human as my neighbor. Ethan didn’t possess that; there wasn’t a moment when, in his overwhelming presence, I forgot that he was a wolf. The primality of his animal was so blended into his very nature that he always presented as mostly were-animal and only passably human. I accepted that about him and most of the pack, but I still needed something different—Steven was different. We were different.
“He’s fixated on the fact that he needs your approval. Give it to him so he’ll move back.”
“Sky—”
“Steven makes things”—I didn’t have the right word that really expressed it—“he’s comforting.”
He made a face, then nodded slowly. Could that have made Ethan jealous? I wondered when his mood changed. “I’ll take that into consideration.” And with that he left the room.
He could consider it all he wanted. Good for him, but it wasn’t his decision. As he took a seat on the sofa, his hands clasped behind his head, he seemed casually amused by me grappling with the polite way to tell him exactly what I was thinking. “Get bent” seemed like the wrong way to start off.
I took a long, calming breath. Then another. I needed several to work through all variations of telling him where to take his “consideration.” With a sweet, cloying smile, I finally said, “It’s good that you’re thinking about it. But since it’s not your decision, it really doesn’t matter.”
The stern look of defiance should have deterred me. I didn’t want to argue with Ethan—we had more pressing issues that we needed to deal with than Steven’s living arrangements—but once again I found myself on the precipice, realizing that if I allowed this to go unchallenged, things with Ethan would devolve into this relationship being totally in his control. Everything in it would be based on his whims and decisions. For a few moments, the idea that those factors had existed from the moment things had changed between us and we became “involved” made me uneasy.
“It’s not your decision to make,” I repeated, infusing my voice with steel, determined that this was going to be one of the battles I won. I wasn’t going to allow Ethan to control what went on in my house, and for a brief moment I understood the dynamics between Ethan and Josh and the rest of their world. The pack, whether you wanted them to or not, became a huge part of your life, consuming so much of it that your life was the pack. Period. But those dynamics didn’t have to exist in my personal microcosm. Ethan wasn’t going to be the Alpha of our own little pack or whatever the hell was happening between us.
He considered me for a few moments, and I wondered if he was experiencing the same uncertainties that I was.
“But it is,” he said calmly, cool and stolid as though the discussion was over.
“Ethan—”
“This discussion is over. I don’t want another man living with you.”
“Another man? It’s Steven, not some random guy.”
When he sucked in a breath, I knew that he was fighting a dominating and aggressive response because he was unaccustomed to being challenged, especially by members of the pack. If he told Steven not to move in with me, it wouldn’t be challenged. It would be what was requested. He shrugged. “As I stated before, I’ll take your request under consideration.”
Why did that sound like he was dismissing me? Probably because he was. Placating me with a falsehood in order to move on. Yep, and right there is the punchable face.
“Just call him and tell him now,” I pressed.
“No.” He extended his hand out to me, and I stood a few inches from him, staring at it. “We have more pressing things to deal with.” As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right and that we needed to put the living arrangement situation aside.
I took it and let him draw me to him. I sat astride him and he smiled and leaned into me, his breath warm and breezy against my lips. “See, if Steven lived here, we couldn’t do this.” His hands slipped under my shirt, kneading at my skin, stroking it. I was aware of him watching my response as he moved over the previously bruised area. It was healed and just a little tender. Nothing compared to how it had felt initially.
“Of course we can. In fact, I owe him a couple of uncomfortable moments. I can’t tell you the number of times I found one of his stray one-nighters in the house. At least I know your name. That’s more than I can say for him and the random half-naked woman I had to have my coffee and breakfast with.”
Ethan laughed and I leaned against him. “I’m sure he knew their names.”
“A couple he couldn’t give with certainty. He was reduced to calling them ‘sweetheart’ or ‘hon.’”
“And yet you miss that?”
“No, I don’t miss that. But I do miss him.”
Ethan frowned. “What happened yesterday?”
I told him the same edited version I’d given Steven, taking care to monitor my vital responses as much as I could. I wasn’t ready to tell him about Chris, yet. The situation still seemed too complicated.
His lips pressed against mine, soft, gentle, soothing. Warm breath beat lightly against my lips as he held my gaze for a long time before speaking. “Who did you see, Chris or Quell?” His tone was soft and devoid of anything readable. Was he angry? Disappointed?
At least there was disgust, which was something he exhibited often when Quell’s name came
up. Ethan and most of the pack referred to him as “my vampire.” And in a peculiar way, he was. He was a misanthropic vampire who chose to feed from a plant rather than a human because of his disdain for them, and somehow I was the only person he would feed from.
I held Ethan’s gaze and failed at keeping everything even and consistent. I steadied my breathing and the cadence in my voice and was careful with how many times I blinked. I’d never be able to control my heart rate no matter how much I tried, but I controlled as many things as I could that I knew he would monitor and assess for changes. Ethan was good, and I figured a distraction would impair his abilities. I brushed my lips against his and he pulled me closer, kissing me hungrily as his fingers moved through my hair. When he pulled away he asked again, “Who did you see, Chris or Quell?”
I shook my head. His wry frown lasted for a brief moment before it became a disappointed one. Tension remained between us, and what started out as just a few seconds of quiet turned into several long minutes of silence. The extended quiet always bothered me more than Ethan, and he could have sat there, watching me, until I recanted my statement. I wasn’t ready. Continuing the story, I dropped my eyes from his and found a spot of some interest behind him. “The witch or mage or whatever was strong. Standing next to her was like standing next to Josh, but the magic was different. I haven’t been around enough mages to—”
“Seventy-seven. Your heart rate has increased to seventy-seven. You’re lying to me. Answer my question and then finish. Tell me everything. I know it had to be either Chris or Quell because those are the only two people you would be reluctant to tell me about. Which one was it, Sky?”
For a long time I considered ignoring the question and finishing the story, and if I were dealing with anyone else, I might have. Tenacity was one of the traits Ethan possessed in spades, and I knew he wasn’t going to be put off.
“Chris,” I croaked out in a tight voice.
The moment platinum began to roll over his eyes, he closed them. “You can’t keep things from me, Skylar.”
I held my pot-kettle comment because it would only have made things worse.
“I don’t agree with her being brought into this, not even to appease him for a moment. Even if it buys us more time.”
“It’s a last resort. No one wants this, but so far, Josh hasn’t found anything. What do you suggest we do, Sky? If you have an idea, please share it with me.”
I had nothing. A way to fix this had dominated most of my thoughts, and in the end, I really had nothing. The only thing I had to offer was Steven’s suggestion. He listened and then smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
It was a great idea that required me convincing him that it would be better handled by Winter and me. More specifically Winter. He reluctantly agreed after an unnecessary debate, and midway through that conversation, I started to feel like he just enjoyed arguing with me and was already agreeable to us doing it.
Settled as I was against him, my face pressed into his neck, his fingers gently stroking my skin were a distraction, and one I was sure that he was very aware of. “What was your meeting about?” I asked.
“Nothing, really.” He wrapped his arms around me and lightly kissed me on the head.
I adjusted myself, moving back from him.
“A meeting with all the Alphas was for nothing? That’s really hard to believe.”
He shrugged, the hard frown eventually slipping, but he looked distracted again. “Cole called the meeting. He tends to be more inclined to overreaction than most.”
Okay, then, if Cole is considered an overreactor by the king of overreactors, then Cole has to be the drama kings of all drama kings.
“What is he overreacting about?”
Ethan nuzzled at my neck, ignoring my question. Then he kissed me, gently at first and them more commanding, drawing a moan from me. Oh, Mr. Distraction is in rare form today. I jerked away and stood back several inches.
“I’m not that easily distracted.”
He hit me with one of his overly confident smiles. Confidence and arrogance melded together in a way that was definitively and uniquely his. There it was in all its glory, the look that made me want to inflict bodily harm upon him. Yeah, you’re super sexy. Good for you. “Cole, being overreactive and dramatic, called a meeting for what reason?”
Conceding to the fact that I wasn’t going to drop the topic, Ethan rubbed his hands over his face and then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. It took a moment for him to focus on me. I wasn’t buying the “Cole was overreacting” story. I had a feeling the meeting had had something to do with me or Josh, and Ethan was doing what he always tried to do—protecting us and hiding the truth. That was where our belief systems were diametrically opposed. He protected people by keeping them in the dark while he attempted to handle it behind the scenes with them being none the wiser. I believed the darkness left the person vulnerable and unable to defend themselves.
“Cole was told that we would be cursed and the packs would fall at the hands of the wolf that wasn’t anchored to this life.”
“We are going to be cursed because of me. Who told him this?”
“A fae. One with foretelling gifts like Claudia’s. The East Coast Pack has a good relationship with them. It was a warning.”
“Why do you think it’s an overreaction? It’s possible.”
He shook his head, but it lacked conviction. “You have control of Maya. You have this. I have no concerns. And anything a fae sees is never going to be as accurate as what Claudia knows. She isn’t concerned, so I’m not.”
“You’ve seen what I’m capable of. Maya has unlocked a lot of magic in me.” I brought up the fact that when we’d removed Marcia’s curse, we’d removed others. Vital ones that protected people. How did we know that we hadn’t activated curses, too? The full impact of what we’d done was constantly unfolding, each discovery more ominous and devastating than the previous one. And for the record, I wasn’t the only wolf “not anchored to this life”—there was Ethan. He’d been hiding something that had always existed, or something had awakened in him, too.
“You’re different, too.”
He dismissed my accusation with a wave of his hand. “Are we going to have this discussion again? It’s really getting old.”
“I don’t think you’re being honest. You did magic that not even Josh knew to kill something that couldn’t be destroyed with a spell from the Clostra or Faerie magic. You want me to believe it was just a spell that Josh forgot to learn?”
“I never said he ‘forgot’ to learn. Josh wasn’t always as assiduous as he is now about magic, so there are spells that I know that he doesn’t.”
I knew Ethan would have a logical answer for everything I tossed in his direction. It all made sense, except Josh had said the spell that Ethan had done was so strong that even a level one witch would have issues completing it, yet he’d done it with ease. Ethan, because his mother was a witch, had access to magic that most didn’t. He’d often said it was weak, residual magic and that somehow upon his mother’s death, it had been split unequally between him and Josh. Ethan possessed skills that his brother didn’t, including being able to disarm most wards. My curiosity was unsettled. I felt that Ethan was more; he was hiding something, but I wasn’t sure who he was trying to protect by doing it.
“I feel a lot of things would have to transpire for you to be a danger.”
He stood, and before I could ask any more questions he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and started for the door.
“You’re not staying?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be back tonight.”
I had to wonder: was knowing that Chris was in town the reason for his abrupt departure? Was there more about the Cole situation that he was trying to handle inconspicuously?
I stopped him before he could go out the door. “Don’t look for her. She can’t be part of this, Ethan.” He grunted a response and exited. I shouted to the closed door, “And don’t
forget to let Steven know he can move in!”
The door opened again. “Steven’s not moving back,” he said firmly. I started to say something, but he raised his hand to quiet me. “Steven will never do anything to hurt you. He just doesn’t have it in him. Like my brother, he coddles you. Which leaves me being the bad guy—”
“You’re good at it.”
The insult rolled over him and he smiled as though he’d accepted it as a compliment. “He’s happy where he is, and that is where he will stay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Joan said he is. She has no reason to lie about it.”
I nodded. He waited a few minutes, I assumed to gauge my response. Before he finally left, he said, “If he wanted to come back as well, I would be okay with it because it is what you both want. Your wants can’t override his.”
He closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 5
Winter wasn’t very happy about visiting her ex and probably never would be—Abigail’s betrayal and manipulation of Winter’s residual feelings for her had assured that—but for the good of the pack, she reluctantly did it.
We waited patiently at the door, near the sentinel who had let us in, but not before confiscating our weapons and anything that could be conceivably used as a weapon, including keys. As Abigail descended the spiraling stairs of her new home where she and her brother lived, which was provided to him as the new ruler of the elves, a smile overtook her face. Although she wasn’t entitled to be there and had no official title, she had settled in as more of a co-leader than a counselor. She’d manipulated and colluded her brother into the position of ruler of the elves that she’d actually wanted for herself but was precluded from holding by patriarchal rules. He considered her his political surrogate and had made it known that she should be given the same respect and privileges afforded to him, and she’d settled for a position of power by association. Her soft violet-colored eyes and whimsical smile could easily have fooled someone into believing that they weren’t dealing with one of the most calculating and unscrupulous people that I’d ever encountered.
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